


The Outlook For Thursday

by shihadchick



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: There's more weather in Ohio.





	The Outlook For Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Fira for looking this over and being an immensely reassuring person <3 Title and inspiration from the DD Smash song of the same name.

Bring an umbrella, Alex's mom tells him absently, as he's packing his bag for America.

She's usually right about things like that; although not always in the way people expect. Alex would have planned to just buy one in Ohio if he ever needed one, it's not as if there aren't shops in Columbus, too.

But his mother said to bring an umbrella, so he packs one.

* * *

Will gets traded early in the year. Late in the season.

They say it never rains in California, and he knows there's a drought, but he's pretty sure it's raining then.

Maybe Ohio will be better, though. There's more weather in Ohio.

* * *

Alex and Will played at World Juniors together, so they know each other. They're almost friends, the way teammates usually are, close enough to comment on insta occasionally, or snapchat each other, or text through the whole knows-a-guy-who-knows-a-guy-phone tree.

Alex thinks it'll be cool to have another guy from home around the team.

Hopefully they'll be friends.

* * *

Will blows hot and cold, Alex finds out quickly.

It's not that Will isn't fun to hang out with, or that he and Alex don't get on better and better the more time they spend together, thrown together with so much in common.

It's just that Will has his own personal weather system.

It's no big deal.

* * *

Alex doesn't remember Will having his own personal rain cloud — or hail — or snow — or the glow of a rising sun, sneaking up around the edges of his hair — he doesn't remember anything like that, the last time they saw each other.

Will just shrugs, when he asks.

It's a thing that happens, sometimes, he says. No big deal.

Him and Alex spend a lot of time together these days, so of course Alex sees it more, whether or not Will wants him to.

It always vanishes the second they enter the dressing room, anyway, the sun going behind a cloud, the rainburst clearing up, the tiny snowflakes dogging Will's footprints and outlining them briefly on the concrete melting away to nothing.

Alex isn't sure whether that's because Will tries harder to stop it when it's time to play, or if there's some kind of hierarchy he's not aware of at play there.

(Sometimes Torts is his very own thundercloud, which would probably have been a lot more alarming for the rest of the team if they weren't already used to Will by the time they dug themselves so deep into a hole that it felt like they hadn't seen the sun for weeks. Will spent the first two weeks of that season wrapped in fog, thicker by the day. Alex was the only one who kept sitting there beside him, after a while. Alex doesn't mind the weather, and honestly, it did great things for his hair, too. Alex is very good at finding a silver lining.)

But Alex doesn't know all that much about how it works; he's never had lightning crackle through his fingertips or trailing behind his skates, he doesn't see the future and he's only seen the past the same way everyone else does; through pictures and fuzzy video and even fuzzier memory. Alex is very, very normal.

As well as being devastatingly handsome, obviously.

But Will just smiles indulgently when Alex bugs him about taking insta pictures, and gets his own back in making Alex chauffeur him around everywhere. Literally everywhere.

Alex has seen the reflection of sunrise in Will's eyes more often than he's seen it set, lately. They do spend a lot of time indoors, though.

* * *

Will is never too hot, and never too cold, not unless he's hurt badly enough that what instinctive control he does have is entirely occupied in trying to remember what it felt like when his head didn't hurt. He's not in any hurry to repeat that any time soon.

But when it's cold out he gets an echo of the sun at high noon, a simulacrum of mid-desert heat, baking all the ache out of his bones when he's been in a cold rink for too long.

It's only friendly to share that with Alex when he can. It's not like they're not comfortable being close enough to share an umbrella or a cool summer breeze, whipping around them both while the early-season sun beats down on Columbus.

Because Will's only human he encourages the breeze to mess up Alex's hair.

Who wouldn't, really.

* * *

The postseason could have started better.

There's chances upon chances and nothing going in and all too soon they're back in the dressing room with nothing to show for their efforts.

Will gives himself a pressure headache on the way home, the most ironically localised depression of all time. He's pleasantly surprised Alex still takes the seat next to him, nods off against his shoulder, and then just mutely hands him painkillers, taking a couple for himself.

They're good at sharing.

* * *

Winter has long fled, although it makes an effort, tries to sneak back in through the weeds of summer. It's probably not going to snow again any time soon anywhere except right around Will, but he sits crosslegged on the patio of his apartment and makes a tiny snowman, shaped between thumb and forefinger. Pats each snowball into place with a spare puck that's been kicked under the coffee table at some point. He's pretty sure it wasn't a milestone one for him or Alex. They're pretty good about leaving those labeled for their parents.

Alex lets himself in and just stretches out next to Will, enjoying the sun and the snow.

Will lets a few stray flakes drift in his direction, laughs for the first time all day at how put out he looks while trying to brush them away.

"You look nice," Will says after a little while. It's true enough.

Alex shrugs. "Felt like making an effort."

Will's not sure who for, but they'll go for dinner soon, and Alex knows where they're going, because driver picks the restaurant. Will's English is more than good enough to know that's not how that saying usually goes, but he's not going to call Alex on it.

* * *

Things do not improve noticeably from there.

* * *

Alex can feel the gloom lift a little, finds it easier to find Will in his apartment and easier to find himself, surer of the center, holding tight to everything that's got them so far already. It's been rotten, it's been hard, it's been warm and amazing and spectacular and the easiest thing he's ever done.

Will's hair streaks in sunset colors when he smiles at Alex, all pinks and oranges that look unfairly good on him. It's harder to see now his hair is shorter, but Alex can feel the warmth of it on his neck, kindled up tight and small in his own chest too.

Alex falls asleep on Will's couch and wakes up with his head in Will's lap, Will's fingers carding softly through his hair, tracing some kind of design on his scalp.

When they were teenagers, he probably would have woken up with something drawn on his face.

His gaze is drawn back towards Will's.

It's not just the rising sun he sees there, this time.

* * *

Will isn't sure where to start, now that he's been so transparent. He's not even sure where they'll be next week.

A stress-related monsoon in the middle of his living room was not ideal. The couch will probably recover, and Alex certainly will, but there's not a whole lot of dignity in having to race to the bathroom and stand in the tub until he can get his heart rate to come back down again.

It takes a while.

He was not expecting Alex to still be there when he came back.

* * *

Alex has spare clothes at Will's place, enough to cover him for any number of accidental drenchings. This is not unprecedented.

He's still damp when Will walks in, and Will's pulse kicks up accordingly. Alexander Wennberg in a wet t-shirt, thin cotton clinging to every line of muscle and gone vaguely translucent is, well. Alexander Wennberg in a wet t-shirt.

Will's a weather witch with a sky-high insurance deductible on account of the frequency of water or wind damage, but he's not made of _stone_.

"Sorry?" Will says. It wasn't supposed to be a question.

Alex shrugs. Walks over to Will, palms out, empty, open, offering. There's nothing shading the answering lightness in his eyes as he looks right at Will.

"What have you been waiting for?" Alex asks, softly. Intently.

"This, I think," Will says.

He might as well sky-write his intentions, spelling them out in pictograms and loopy script, miniature cumulus clouds skidding across the ceiling of his living room, swirling around and puffing back into nothingness as Alex ducks his head and kisses Will squarely on the mouth, breathing him in.

Calm, at the eye of the storm.

And then—

He's not sure if the fireworks are him or Alex or both of them.

* * *

Meteorology is an inexact science.

* * *

Alex is fascinated to find that the more naked he gets Will, the less obvious his weather manifestation gets.

"Self preservation," Will explains.

Or maybe he's just shifting his vulnerabilities, Alex thinks, and slides a hand along his side, making Will swallow a tiny, desperate sound. Not sure whether to lean back into the touch or jerk forward to be closer to Alex's warmth.

Will makes another noise and grabs desperately at Alex.

He stops worrying about the microclimate of Will's bedroom.

* * *

"So were there really fireworks?" Nuti asks, later, eyes wide, edging a little further out of Will's range. Just in case, apparently.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Will says. Next time he'll keep his eyes open and find out.

Alex squeezes his hand, as good as promising a next time, and smirks at Nuti, who shakes off his respect for his elders enough to roll his eyes right back.

Yeah, Will thinks. They'll be just fine.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Outlook for Thursday [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165168) by [escherzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/pseuds/escherzo)




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